The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 4J. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page 11
... Shall I feem creft - fall'n in my father's fight , Or with pale beggar face impeach my height , Before this out - dar'd Daftard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my Honour with fuch feeble wrong , Or found fo bafe a parle , my teeth shall ...
... Shall I feem creft - fall'n in my father's fight , Or with pale beggar face impeach my height , Before this out - dar'd Daftard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my Honour with fuch feeble wrong , Or found fo bafe a parle , my teeth shall ...
Page 17
... Shall not re - greet our fair Dominions , But tread the ftranger paths of Banishment . Boling . Your will be done : this muft my comfort be That Sun , that warms you here , shall shine on me : And thofe his golden beams , to you here ...
... Shall not re - greet our fair Dominions , But tread the ftranger paths of Banishment . Boling . Your will be done : this muft my comfort be That Sun , that warms you here , shall shine on me : And thofe his golden beams , to you here ...
Page 18
William Shakespeare Mr. Theobald (Lewis). The fly - flow hours shall not determinate The datelefs limit of thy dear exile : The hopeless word , of never to return , Breathe I against thee , upon pain of life ... shall not determinate ...
William Shakespeare Mr. Theobald (Lewis). The fly - flow hours shall not determinate The datelefs limit of thy dear exile : The hopeless word , of never to return , Breathe I against thee , upon pain of life ... shall not determinate ...
Page 19
... shall rue . Farewel , my Liege ; now no way can I ftray , Save back to England ; all the world's my way . [ Exit . K. Rich . Uncle , even in the glaffes of thine eyes I fee thy grieved heart , thy fad afpect Hath from the number of his ...
... shall rue . Farewel , my Liege ; now no way can I ftray , Save back to England ; all the world's my way . [ Exit . K. Rich . Uncle , even in the glaffes of thine eyes I fee thy grieved heart , thy fad afpect Hath from the number of his ...
Page 20
... shall go . [ Flourish . [ Exit . Aum . Coufin , farewel ; what prefence must not know , From where you do remain , let paper show . Mar. My lord , no leave take I ; for I will ride . As far as land will let me , by your fide . Gaunt ...
... shall go . [ Flourish . [ Exit . Aum . Coufin , farewel ; what prefence must not know , From where you do remain , let paper show . Mar. My lord , no leave take I ; for I will ride . As far as land will let me , by your fide . Gaunt ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
againſt anſwer arms Bard Bardolph blood Boling Bolingbroke call'd captain cauſe Colevile coufin Crown Dauphin death doft doth Duke Duke of Burgundy Earl England Enter Exeunt Exit faid Falstaff father fave fear feem felf felves fhall fhew fhould fight fince flain foldiers fome foul fpeak fpirit France French friends ftand fuch fweet fword Gaunt give Glou Grace Harfleur Harry hath hear heart heav'n himſelf Hoft honour horfe Juft King Henry Liege look lord lord of Westmorland mafter Shallow Majefty moft moſt muft muſt never night noble Northumberland peace Percy Pift Piftol pleaſe Poins pow'r prefent Prince Pucel purpoſe reaſon Reignier Rich Richard Plantagenet ſay Shal ſhall Sir Dagonet Sir John ſpeak Talbot tell thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou art thouſand uncle unto Weft Westmorland whofe Whoſe word York
Popular passages
Page 102 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Page 295 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered...
Page 265 - And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding— which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Page 208 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the shipboy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Page 70 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him...
Page 294 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Page 23 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
Page 209 - With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 87 - To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross.
Page 265 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.